The Magician


The Magician

Abracadabra, says the ignorant magician,
A cliché too ancient for human cognition.
Saddled in an attire, a native black dress,
In Hopes of putting fear amidst the audience.

Pillocks are amazed at his tricks,
With their eyes gazing without a blink.
“what a genius,” they said,
Not knowing they’ve all been fooled.

“Abracadabra,” says the ignorant magician,
“Hocus Pocus Fishbones Chokus,
Izzy Wizzy- let’s get busy”
As he dazzles the crowd with empty fables.

-Pacesetter Abbey


The story of a Man

Crawling Crawling on the ground

a wet napkin dripping around

Sleeping, crying, all the way

Without rest the mother sways

Lets go, lets go, so they say

Without a destination, they go astray

Hide and seek, seek and hide

This is the story of a child


Growing Growing, what a change

Straining free from his chains

Leaping, jumping, into the world

With his sight getting blurred

It is well, it is well, so he believed

Girded his loins, in quest to be redeemed

Fad and pleasures, pleasures and fad

This is the story of a lad


Falling, Rising, so is life

Discipline and diligence, his two wives

Left and right, two different paths

Take the right one, and avoid the pit

Failure, Success, choose your drive

Meeting with strife, trying to survive

Plan and harvest, harvest and plan

This is the story of a man


Pacesetter Abbey

© March 2017

Life Began with Strife

[Life… it all began with strife]

A quick look into the past,
the day we took our first breath,
a loud cry! we made,
coupled with feelings of hurt and pain.
Thinking in our little heart… “what a world of strain.”

[Life… with the poking of little knives]

Time flew as age began to grow,
mistakes became a daily blow,
with little flaws often leading to big spanks.
Failure, also a daily routine
while the results of success was seldom seen.

[Life… an epic saga of Love]

The conquest of pain begat gain,
with every fall to the ground a crown was found.
Subtle heights were attained in the crafts of loftiness,
but the challenges came in fuss, muss, and truss.
A life that started in sorrow became a life of mellow.

…it all began with strife,
with the poking of little knives
thankfully, it’s just a saga of love

-Pacesetter Abbey

An Idle Brood Over the Ears

The hollow of the ear is never appeased
it peeps and peaks without the owner’s heed
putting the mouth in dire straits
while the body suffers higher consequences.

The mouth closes
so does the eyes
but the ears stays open
devouring every utterance in its path.

Your ears won’t stop hearing
But the words of your mouth can always be cautioned.

-Pacesetter Abbey